


Cheap Trick

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 10 Things I Hate About You (Movie), 10 Things I Hate About You AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Cheesy, F/M, High School, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, Romantic Comedy, a fic based on a film based on a play, this might possibly have been a bad idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers used to be popular. He was friends with everyone, got invited to all the big parties and never argued with teachers. No one really knows what changed, only that after Ninth he got really opinionated and hostile. He didn't have so many friends after that. No one's ever known what's up with Bucky Barnes, only that he spent a year away and came back even angrier than before. He's got a reputation no one wants to think about.</p><p>And Clint? Well Clint just really wants to date Natasha Romanov, but it's going to take more than asking her out to get there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Circus Brat

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a really badly written fic based on a film based on Taming of the Shrew. If you haven't seen 10 Things I Hate About You I definitely recommend it. Heath Ledger is great in it.

Liberty High was a typical cliché American School. It ran on cliques, teenage drama and terrible cafeteria food that looked like it might crawl off your tray the second it had a chance. It was big and stone built, the kind of place a rich person could live in if they felt like it, and it had an incredible view of the ocean. However, the inside of the school? Not so pretty.

 Like most High Schools, the halls of the place were a war-zone, the breeding grounds for dramatic break-ups and the assured humiliation that comes with growing up. It’s grubby walls and banged up lockers were the perfect location for the Rumour Mill to churn out unpleasant secrets and mostly made-up stories. It was hard, for a hormone filled environment such as Liberty High, to stop a secret from spreading the second it got out. Even so, many students had still yet to learn (through the horrendous humiliation that comes with growing up no less) to play their cards close to their chests and keep important secrets a secret.

Despite his toxic surroundings, Clint Barton was thrilled to be there. He was pretty sure he could ignore the overflowing trash cans and the gum covered sidewalk, it was just like any of the other schools he’d been to, in favour of the fact he was actually in a place where he could stay a while. He wasn’t sure how he felt about switching schools in the middle of the year, but he’d moved so many times now that he was pretty sure he could handle it. Besides, this time he could make friends that he wouldn’t have to leave behind.

The counsellor in front of him – a stern looking woman with her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun and a suit that looked like it actually repelled dirt – did not seem so enthusiastic about the teenager sat across from her. She raised an eyebrow, twisting her mouth slightly, as she carefully scanned his transcripts.

“So Clint, nine schools in ten years, huh? That’s a lot of moving around for a kid your age… army brat?”

“Actually, my brother was in the circus but he’s retired n—“

“—That’s enough,” Miss Hill interrupted him. “I’m sure you won’t find Liberty any different to your old school. Same little asswipe shit-for-brains everywhere.”

As if on cue, a boy was tackled into a garbage can right outside the window. Half empty cans and day old macaroni and cheese… or what Clint thought was macaroni and cheese spilled all over the ground. Several students shrieked as it splashed at their feet.

Clint wasn’t sure who to stare at. The scuffling gunk-covered boys or the teacher who just cursed more than his uncle did (and his uncle was in the navy)? He settled for staring at Hill. He could watch teenage boys cover themselves in gross food any old time. It was High School for crying out loud.

“Um, excuse me? Did you just say—Am I in the right office?” Clint managed to stammer out in his disbelief. Every one of his old schools had had a rule about teachers swearing in front of students, the rule being Don’t Do It.

“Not anymore you’re not,” Hill shrugged. “I’ve got deviants to see and military defence tactics to finish. Now scoot!”

Clint barely managed an “Okay, thanks” before he was hurrying out the door. In his desperation to escape whatever had just happened (he hadn’t quite processed it yet) he almost ran into what must have been the scariest looking guy he’d ever seen.

Said Scary Guy was at least a head taller, obviously a senior, than Clint himself and looked like a punk gone wrong with his bird’s nest hair and smudged eyeliner. The leather jacket and combat boots didn’t help with the air off terror, Clint could’ve sworn he almost died of fear right then and there when Scary Guy turn his glare on him.

Clint backed away quickly, heading down the hallway at what was almost a quick jog, and went to find his tour guide.

 

~*~

 

 Maria Hill was very familiar with angry teenagers slumped in the old plastic chair across from her. It was her job, as the counsellor, to look at said angry teenagers slumped in the old plastic chair and ask them what was wrong and figure out how to deal with it. However, with this particular angry student she was all too familiar.

Bucky Barnes slouched there, his default pose when sitting down firmly in position, with his arms crossed tight and his shoulders tensed. Hill was as used to his scowl as she was to his ridiculous posture. She had no patience for this boy whatsoever, he was in the office too often for stupid reasons and even worse excuses and if she’d been sick of it at the beginning of the year, boy oh boy was she sick of it now.

Hill sighed and looked down at the papers strewn across her desk before looking up and him and leaning her chin on her interlocked fingers.

“Bucky Barnes. I see we’re making our visits a weekly ritual?”

Bucky snorted. “Only so we can have these moments together, do you want me to get the lights?”

His tone dripped with sarcasm. Fortunately Hill happened to be highly trained in the area of sarcastic teenagers, especially when it came to Barnes.

“Very clever,” She replied drily. “Says here that you turned Mr Rumlow’s face green, is that right?”

“He got in the way of my chemistry assignment,” Bucky shrugged.

“You were in Homeroom.”

“I was bored.”

They stared at each other for a minute. Hill debated whether it was a good idea to question it or not. Probably not, judging on Barnes’ history. A lot of the time she found herself not wanting to know and/or feeling the need to bleach her brain once she did. The inner workings of Bucky Barnes’ head were a mystery that no one wanted to solve.

“Bored, huh. Aren’t we such a daredevil? Next time keep it in the lab, okay? Scoot!” Hill dismissed him with a wave of her hand, returning her gaze to the screen of her laptop.

Bucky sat there for a second, eyeing her suspiciously as if he wasn’t sure if she was quite done. When she didn’t look up again he rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of the chair.

Whatever, he thought as he headed for his first class, he had better things to do than sit in a counselling office all day.

~*~

Clint stood by his newly assigned locker and looked around awkwardly.  The halls were full of bustling unfamiliar faces. Every so often a locker slammed or somebody shouted a greeting to their friend. He found himself jumping at one point when a particularly cheerful looking blonde boy (who was _huge_ by the way) roared happily at the sight of his girlfriend. Well, Clint was assuming it was his girlfriend by the enthusiastic kissing that ensued.

 He was supposed to meet his tour guide here, but no one had stopped by to talk to him. Most students had just passed by without giving him a second look. He glanced down at his watch, five minutes until the bell went for first period. He didn’t have a clue where his first class was. Being late on the first day wasn’t an ideal situation, it usually ended in having to introduce himself in front of the whole class, years of experience had taught him that.

After a couple more minutes he decided he’d be better off just trying to find the class himself, though as he turned to leave someone was clapping him on the back.

“Hey there, you must be Clint?”

Clint turned towards the voice. A boy around his age was stood behind him with a wide grin plastered across his face. The kid wasn’t what Clint expected, he wore a faded Black Sabbath shirt and what appeared to be motor oil was smudged across his cheek and nose.

A relieved smile crept onto Clint’s face. He was going to be on time and he wasn’t stuck with some nerd that used big words he wouldn’t understand all day. “Oh hi. Thank God, you know normally they send down one of those science geeks?”

The guy coughed, his grin slipping slightly and his face becoming a little more flustered. Just as he opened his mouth to introduce himself two boys pushing a large cart full of science equipment stopped next to them.

“Hey Stark, where should we put these microscopes?”

The kid – Stark apparently – shooed the boys away with his hands. They both gave him weird looks.

“Stark?” One of them hesitated to ask again.

“Not now,” Stark hissed, and turned back to Clint who was watching the interaction with raised eyebrows. He wouldn’t have pegged Stark as a science nerd but, judging from the way the two kids shuffled away giving them looks suggesting Stark might have gone insane, it seemed Stark was probably high up of the geek chain.

“Let’s just go to class,” Stark sighed, stalking down the hallway. Clint followed quickly. His enthusiasm from earlier was already slipping away. Oh man, this school already seemed crazy.

 

~*~

 

By lunch time Clint had sat next to Stark in two classes and was finding him more and more likeable as the day went on. Tony, Tony Stark he found out was his name. President of the Science Club. It turned out the geek was actually pretty funny, sharing Clint’s sense of humour (as most teenage boys do at their age) and cracking jokes about the book they were reading.

After class Tony pulled Clint close, draping an arm over his shoulder. “So Clint, here’s the breakdown,” He said in a wildly dramatic tone.

 _Oh man,_ Clint thought as they began to walk the hallway, _is he gonna start being weird now?_

“Over there you’ve got your basic beautiful people,” Tony continued with a gesture towards a crowd of kids in letterman jackets and designer outfits. “Now listen. Unless they talk to you first, don’t bother.”

Clint nodded slowly; it was a familiar rule that came with all High Schools. He wondered aloud bitterly anyway, “That your rule or theirs?”

Tony shot him a look that said ‘what do you think?’ before demonstrating. “Watch.”  He turned to one of the burlier letterman guys and smiled widely, “Hey there.”

The guy looked back at him with contempt. “Geek.”

Tony shrugged and steered Clint away from the group. “See that?”

 _Okay_ , Clint thought, _basic rule on School survival, know your place on the food chain._

Offended glares from the group of jocks bore into Clint’s back.

Tony kept up his commentary as they reached the courtyard outside. Students milled around lazily, clustered in various groups, laughing at their friend’s jokes and making unpleasant faces as they ate the cafeteria ‘food’.

“To the left we have the music geeks.”

They watched as someone knocked into a spunky brunette. The iPod she was holding was knocked to the ground, the sound of the screen smashing just reaching their ears.

“Whoa, my iPod! I just downloaded, like, thirty songs to that, butthead!”

“Very edgy, very punk,” Tony remarked. “Don’t make any sudden movements around them, they usually have headphones in.”

Clint stared as they walked around a table full of kids with big square glasses perched on their noses. Tony rolled his eyes at them and looked at Clint.

“These delusionals are the Hipsters. They’re, uh, big Hemingway fans. Think they’re being unique, more intelligent than other kids, but mostly they just—“

“—Drink a lot of tea?” Clint finished for him.

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, looking pleased that Clint was catching on.

Next they began to approach a table full of kids dressed in clothing that belonged in the Victorian Era. They were all very pale, wearing some kind of fake contacts and drinking from goblets of what Clint hoped was red kool aid.

“These guys…” Tony began with a look of concern.

“Wait, wait, let me guess,” Clint interrupted. “Vampires.”

“Yeah but the closest they’ve ever come to the undead is watching re-runs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” Tony chuckled at his own joke. Clint smiled half-heartedly. The ‘Vampires’ had all turned to look at them now and to be honest it was a little bit creepy because man those guys could stare. Luckily Tony steered him away and towards a table of sharp-dressed kids bent over books and debating something too quietly to be heard.

“These are your future world dominators, we’re all Ivy League accepted. Geek greed is back my friend,” Tony smiled. He turned to the group and greeted them with a nod. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

They all glance up, shooting him looks that ranged from annoyed to pleased to see him. One boy in particular looked up and muttered something to the other guys. They all sniggered. Clint didn’t like the look of the kid, his hair was greasy and black and he wore a suit jacket that was bright green and gold. The guy gave off an unpleasant aura; it made Clint slightly uneasy.

Tony sighed as they strolled away. “Yesterday I was their God.”

“What happened?” Clint asked.

“Loki Laufeyson started a rumour that I… steal my robotics plans.”

“So they kicked you out?” Clint frowned.

“Hostile takeover. Don’t worry, they’ll pay.” Tony didn’t seem to notice the alarmed look that had appeared on Clint’s face and continued to speak. “Now over here…”

However, before he could speak anymore Clint’s attention was grabbed by something in the corner of his eye. Now as many people know, teenage crushes are complex and dangerous things, often illogical and based on silly facts or imagined scenarios. But when Clint saw this girl, he was convinced he’d fallen in love. Love at first sight is a rare thing, some people even believe it does not exist, but Clint – being a teenager and extremely inexperienced with any kind of relationship when it came to females (unless of course they were riding horses stood up or sauntering over a tightrope) - had never before felt attraction at first sight and so it was excusable that he confused the two.

“Oh my God,” Clint’s jaw dropped slightly and he turned to look at the girl properly. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, actually flawless, with bouncy red curls and bright lipstick to match. She was slim, dressed in jeans a black tank top that accentuated her curves perfectly. Clint barely even noticed the other girl she was walking with, a shorter (but just as pretty) teen with look black hair and a mischievous smile.

It was almost as if everything was suddenly going in slow motion. Well it did to Clint, for everybody else the world around them moved at an incredibly normal pace (with the exception for those few who were also currently experiencing a similar phenomenon as Clint).

“What group is she in?” Clint demanded, turning to Tony as if it was vital he received this information as quickly as possible.

“The ‘don’t even think about it’ group,” Tony huffed. “That’s Natasha Romanov. A Sophomore.”

In a rare moment of stupidity, for he did not often act stupid and was fairly capable of behaving like a useful member of society, Clint became almost asdramatic as Tony when he was giving the down low on the student body. “I burn! I pine! I perish!”

“Of course you do,” Sarcasm sounded like it was Tony’s mother tongue. “Y’know, she’s beautiful and deep. Pure.”

The girls walked passed, oblivious to Clint’s ‘loving gaze’ (A.K.A terrifying stare of high level creep factor).

“… but I’m pretty sure Harry has no idea I exist,” Natasha’s friend was saying. “I mean, why would an Osborn be interested with me?”

Natasha hummed as if she wasn’t really listening, picking at her nails, her friend continued unruffled. “I mean, he’s so smart, and pretty and _rich_. If I married him I’d never have to go to school again…”

The (one-sided) conversation drifted away from them as the girls turned the corner and Clint finally ripped his eyes away from them long enough to pay attention to Tony, who was glaring frostily at the nerds a few tables away. He turned back to Clint and sighed.

“Listen, forget her. Incredibly uptight father. It’s a widely known fact that the R siblings aren’t allowed to date.”

"What does R stand for?"

"Romanov and Rogers. They're adopted... I think?"

Clint sighed longingly and stared at the corner the girls had disappeared around. It was going to be a long year.

 

~*~

 

English class, Steve Rogers had decided long ago, was not his forte. Well he hadn’t exactly decided this, it was his grades that had shown his not-quite-understanding of the subject. He was smart at math and an average student in science, but he couldn’t quite get the hang of English. Now if English involved drawing depictions of scenes from books or painting portraits of fictional characters then Steve would be an A+ student, but sadly it only involved a lot of words and a lot of analysing that he didn’t get.

The class might not have been his favourite, but the teacher was all right in Steve’s opinion. Mr Rhodes didn’t mind that Steve never got what they were talking about, argued with him about his thoughts on various books and plays, and seemed to share the passionate hatred Steve had for Brock Rumlow.

Mr Rhodes looked like he wanted to disappear the second the bell rang; instead he let out an aggrieved sigh and pushed himself away from his desk to stand up. He scanned the classroom, checking everyone was there and sat down, he glared at one chair in particular which remained empty but he was well aware of who sat there and really wasn’t that bothered by the lack of attendance.

“Okay then, what did everyone think of Romeo and Juliet?”

Darcy Lewis, a music obsessed brunette who did not often pay attention in class, raised her hand. Rhodes looked at her in surprise, debating whether he wanted to hear her opinion or not. After a second of glancing around the room and making sure she was the only one who had anything to say, he shook his head and gestured for her to speak.

“I loved it,” Darcy gushed. “I thought it was _so_ romantic.”

Steve looked at her. She was completely serious and it bothered him for some reason. Now Steve knew he had a problem when it came to expressing his opinion, when he was a kid his ma had often told him he had a habit of speaking loud as a guy with the twice the power he had, and a lot of the time it got him into trouble. A lot of the time he couldn’t help what he said, it rolled off his tongue before he could stop it.

He found himself speaking before he had a chance to shove the words back into his mouth. “Romantic? This play?! They knew each other for three days and committed suicide over each other and six people died!”

The low mumbling of disinterested students stopped, and they all turned to look at Steve. He sat back in his chair, sinking down a little as if a huge guy like him could go unnoticed, and felt his face flush.

He saw Brock Rumlow open his mouth out of the corner of his eye, and knew he’d probably be sent to the office in no time. Rumlow tended to bring out the worst in Steve, even if he was a really good guy at heart.

“At least Romeo had friends,” Rumlow quipped. “Unlike a certain blonde loser in this room.”

Several other students sniggered. Steve fumed quietly in his seat feeling his hackles rise. Before he could take the bait, Rhodes intervened.

“Pipe down, big shot,” He said, shooting Rumlow and unimpressed look.

Rumlow sniggered, Steve took the bait.

“I guess in this society being an athlete and an asshole makes you worthy of our time.  What about Arthur Miller or August Wilson or Samuel Beckett?” Steve might not be very good at English, but he’d heard his mother rant about playwrights since he was younger. She had been a High School English teacher on the other side of town and hadn’t wanted to put Steve through the suffering of being a teacher’s child. So she’d enrolled him at the other (and better) school nearby. That was all before she died, anyway.

The door banged open, half the class turned to see who it was, Steve stayed put. It was obvious who it was, the only person who ever interrupted class in such an obnoxious manner was Bucky Barnes. School 'criminal'. Frankly Steve didn't believe many of the rumours, a lot of them were stupid, like eating a live duck? C'mon, that's just ridiculous. Bucky leaned in the doorway casually, sucking on a lollypop.

“What’d I miss?” He asked without any care.

“The oppressive clique hierarchy that dictates our popularity in education,” Steve answered for him, twirling a pencil in hand and staring straight ahead at the board.

Mr Rhodes rolled his eyes in that way teachers do when they know a student is deliberately being difficult and they have to bite their tongue to refrain from saying something that would get them fired.

“Good,” Bucky said shortly, and disappeared out the door again. The door slammed behind him.

“Hey!” Mr Rhodes shouted after him in a half-hearted attempt to stop him from leaving, but it was to no avail.

“Uh, Mr Rhodes? Do you think there’s any chance you could get Steve to take his mood stabilizers _before_ he comes to class?” Rumlow smirked, much to the amusement of the class.

“Some day you’re gonna get punched in the nose and I’m not gonna do a thing about it,” Rhodes replied, ignoring the fact Steve had punched Rumlow multiple times in the past. “And Steve, I just want to thank you for your point of view.”

Steve smiled to himself.

“I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of middle class teenage suppression, must be tough.”

Steve looked down at his desk. Damn his mouth, why couldn’t he just stay quiet for once?

“But the next time you storm the PTA crusading for better curriculums or whatever it is you white boys complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a black man!”

 _Well he has a point_ , Steve admitted to himself. “Anything else?” He mumbled.

“Yeah, go to the office,” Rhodes waved his hand in dismissal, “You’re pissing me off.”

“What? Mr Rhodes!” Steve began to argue. It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t done anything, you were supposed to be able to express your opinions in class.

“Later!” Rhodes said.

Steve got up and shoved his stuff into his bag quickly, swinging it over his shoulder so it hit Rumlow as he put it on. Rumlow spluttered in protest, but Steve had stormed out the door before he could say anything.

At least he was out of English class, Steve figured.

 

~*~

 

The counsellor’s office, most people will be surprised to know, was a place Steve was well acquainted with. He was in there every so often, either for reasons either similar to the issue in English class or because he’d gotten into a fight he couldn’t win. He probably could win, with all the muscle he’d gained over the summer, but he was often outnumbered by a big group of imbeciles.

When Steve walked into the office that day, Miss Hill was hunched in her usual position over her laptop, probably developing highly illegal plans for a heist or storming a secret intelligence base or something, Steve never really knew, but he’d gathered enough from his time there.

“So I hear you terrorized Mr Rhodes’ class. Again.” She said as Steve walked in, not looking up.

“Expressing my opinion is _not_ a terrorist action,” Steve huffed, dumping his bag on the floor by the chair and throwing himself into it.

“The way you expressed your opinion to Justin Hammer? By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, in case you’re interested.”

“I still maintain that his kicked himself in the balls,” Steve grumbled. Hammer had started the fight, punched Steve and then had his cronies grab his arms, Steve had used his only option to defend himself and maybe misjudged _how_ hard he’d used said option. Nevertheless, he did not regret it one bit.

“The point is Steve,” Hill sipped her coffee. “People perceive you as somewhat…”

“Opinionated?” Steve asked.

“Loud-mouthed loser is the term used most often.”

Steve sighed.

“You might want to work on that. Thank you.”

Steve grabbed his bag hastily, trying not to let his anger show. “As always, thank you for your excellent guidance. I’ll let you get back to taking over the world.” He stormed out without looking back.

“World domination,” Hill nodded to herself. “I like that.”

 

~*~

 

The courtyard of Liberty High was always a bustling mess of excited students at the end of the day. Kids rushed from point to point in an attempt to reach their cars and leave before the traffic to get out begins (which, of course, is what starts the traffic jam in the first place) and the school bus pulled up in the parking lot ready to be assaulted by an army of teenagers eager to get home. Most people, however, stood with their friends and talk for a while before the rush started. It was the perfect way to catch up which fights the kids in detention missed during lunch, who broke up with who and for couples to make out and tell each other how much they missed each other during final period – the only class they’re not in together.

Brock Rumlow stood with his gang of bumbling idiots and watched girls pass as they talked. He’d never appeared to be very interested in talking about girls or sex or anything of that nature until ninth grade really, after which people began to notice he had a rather loud appreciation of women (which to some may seem suspicious).

“Ice Queen alert,” One of the bumbling baboons said, nodding to Rumlow’s left. He turned to see Natasha Romanoff and Felicia Hardy walking past them.

“Lookin’ good, ladies,” He whistled as they went by. Felicia giggled, Natasha turned and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“They’re out of reach, even for you,” Rumlow’s crony said.

“No one’s out of reach for me,” Rumlow replied.

“You wanna put money on that?”

 

“Money I’ve got. This I’m going to do for fun,” He decided.

From across the courtyard in a noticeably less populated corner, Clint and Tony stood surrounded by overflowing trashcans, watching the scene between Natasha and Rumlow unfold.

“Who’s that guy?” Clint asked. There was no making the distaste that coloured his tone. He was _not_ impressed by the way Rumlow was staring at Natasha’s legs, even if he was staring himself.

“Brock Rumlow. He’s a grade A jerkoff. And a model,” Tony snorted. Clint sniggered.

“A model?”

“A model,” Tony nodded, his mouth twisting into an amused smile, “Mostly regional stuff, but he’s rumoured to be having a big _tube sock_ ad coming out.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Clint sniggered again, Tony joined in with him. It only took a second of quietly laughing to themselves to them sharing a quick glance, before they were off and doubling over with full on side-splitting laughter. To an outsider it may have looked like an over reaction, but for the two boys who had managed to becomes rather good friends throughout the day and had not experienced the hilarity of having someone to share a joke with before it was an appropriate reaction.

Once they’d calmed down and Tony had wiped the tears that had been forming in his eyes away, they stood straight and looked back over.

“Man, look at her,” Clint said appreciatively, staring at Natasha’s bouncing curls.

“Is she always so… vapid?” Tony replied, looking at Natasha with scrutiny. He’d never really taken a lot of notice of her before, sure she was pretty, but he’d seen prettier (prettier being Pepper Potts, the senior in love with Shakespeare and all things related).

“How can you say that?!” Clint sounded highly offended as he hit Tony lightly on the arm. Or at least he thought it had been lightly, but the way Tony scowled and rubbed his arm suggested otherwise. “She’s totally…”

“Conceited?” Tony suggested. Clint glared at him.

“What are you talking about? There’s more to her than you think,” For a boy who had shared one class with a girl he’d only gone to school with for one day, this was a pretty strong defence of character. “I mean, look… look at the way she smiles. And look at her eyes, man. She’s totally pure. I mean, you’re missing what’s there.”

Tony disagreed; he thought he could see exactly what was there, a cold hearted bitch. But he wasn’t about to have his arm suffer Clint’s remarkable strength again. Well, he wasn’t until he saw Clint’s love struck gaze. Then he _had_ to say something.

“No Clint, no,” He said sternly. “What’s there is the queen of ice wearing a strategically planned outfit t make guys like us realize we can never touch her, and guys like, uh… Rumlow, realize they want to.”

Across the courtyard, Rumlow was making his way towards the two girls. Clint frowned.

“She my friend, is what we’ll spend the rest of our lives not having. So put her in your spank bank and move on.”

“No.”

“Move on.”

“No! You’re wrong about her. I mean, not about the spanking part, but the rest. You’re wrong.”

“Alright. I’m wrong? You wanna take a shot? Be my guest. She’s actually looking for a Russian tutor.”

“Are you serious?” Clint asked excitedly. “That’s perfect!”

“Do you speak Russian?” Tony asked with concern.

“Well no, but I will.”

Clint’s nod of determination made Tony want to turn around and walk away from him as quickly as possible, hopefully so he could avoid all of the embarrassing moments that were clearly going to arise from this situation. However, Clint was funny and Tony had no other friends and now he was _invested_ in how this turned out.

It wasn’t going to end well at all.

 

~*~

 

The best feeling about the end of the day was the knowledge you were completely free from being surrounded by egotistical idiots, Steve decided as he watched Brock Rumlow converse with his sister. Converse may have been the wrong; it was more like watching a fish try to breathe out of water while Natasha watched.

If there was one egotistical idiot that Steve hated more than the rest, it was definitely Rumlow. Oh well, it wasn’t like he could tell Nat who to talk to, he wasn’t in charge of what his sister was friends with.

Pepper Potts, Steve’s best friend, chattered away beside him as they walked. He was paying attention, he swore he was, but Rumlow was talking to his _sister_ and that was _unacceptable_. He couldn’t even do anything about it, which was possibly why he found it so annoying.

“… and I thought I did pretty well on that test consider— you haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Pepper stopped and stared at Steve. He looked down at his feet guiltily.

“You were in gym class…?” He tried to guess.

“I didn’t even have gym today,” Pepper sighed.

Pepper was the kind of girl you would be lucky to befriend because not only did she show an incredible penchant for giving advice when it was needed, but she had the patience of a mother of four and rarely wasted her breath on snapping unless she was _really_ angry. She let Steve get away with a lot of stuff, and humoured him when he was being foolish; mostly he was just glad she was his best friend.

Natasha often questioned why Pepper was friends with Steve, as Pepper was a beautiful and popular (although she tried her hardest not to be) member of the student body. When Nat asked this Steve never had an answer. He questioned it too. All he knew was that Pepper made the best apple cake in the world and he was pretty damn lucky to have her.

“So how many?” Pepper asked.

“What?” Steve replied in confusion.

“How many ways to kill Brock Rumlow have you come up with?” Her tone suggested there should be a ‘duh’ on the end of the sentence.

Steve chuckled, she grinned back at him.

“Around two hundred and eighty four,” He joked.

“Only in the hundreds? That’s weak Rogers, I thought you were better than that.” Steve tried to elbow her in the side, but she dodged and slapped him away with a laugh.

Though of course just as Steve’s mood was lifting _he_ would ruin it.

“Hey, your little nerd look is out, Rogers. Didn’t you read last month’s Cosmo?” Rumlow called as he pulled his car up beside them.

“Run along,” Steve said calmly. He refused to let Rumlow get to him. If he did, someone would walk out of there bleeding and it would probably be Steve, then he’d end up sat on the toilet at Pep’s house while she patched him up so Nick – his foster dad – wouldn’t see.

As Pepper and Steve walked on, Natasha and Felicia’s conversation hit their ears.

“I know you can over overwhelmed,” Felicia was saying. “And you can be underwhelmed… but can you ever just be whelmed?”

“I think you can in Europe,” Natasha replied drily.

Steve shared a look of concern with Pepper. Nat wasn’t stupid, they all knew that, but she often acted like it. Steve liked to think it’s was Nat’s way of staying undercover, the secret identity she used to survive High School, it was dumb and didn’t make much sense but she was a teenage girl so not a lot made sense with her.

Much to Steve’s disdain Rumlow pulled his car up alongside them again, this time addressing Nat and Felicia.

“Hi ladies, would you sweet young things like a ride?” He flashed a charming smile at the two. Felicia giggled and Nat smiled.

All it took was for them to exchange excited looks before they were hopping into the backseat of Rumlow’s ugly red convertible.

“Careful on the leather,” Rumlow warned as they climbed in. Steve hoped they’d tear it on their heels.

As the car pulled out and they drove away Pepper turned to look at Steve in confusion.

“That’s a charming new development.”

“It’s disgusting,” Steve replied. God, Nat was going to be unbearable when he got home.

 

~*~

 

 Tony’s moped was his prized possession (if you didn’t count his brain as a possession). He drove it everywhere; it was his pride and joy. Yes he had the money for an actual car, and yes he could definitely drive something nice and sleek with a shiny red finish, but the moped was _his_. He’d saved up for it, had his Uncle Jarvis help him pick it out (Jarvis wasn’t his real uncle, but he felt like one) and bought it with his own money. He hadn’t used one of his dad’s cards or money that his mom had handed it when he was bored and wanted to go out. No, this was his with it’s old blue dork basket on the from and soft leather seat and he loved it whether it made him look like a loser or not.

He’d explained as much to Clint, after seeing the look of amusement on the other boy’s face when he’d climbed onto the vehicle. Clint had nodded and said ‘fair enough’ and left Tony to it. He felt like he finally had an actual friend, which was nice.

He didn’t see Steve Rogers’ ancient clunker of a car before he pulled out, and was suddenly forced to stop before he hit the front of it.

Steve leaned out the window looking mildly irritated. “Remove head from sphincter and then drive,” He advised with a sarcastic smile. Tony could see Pepper laughing in the passenger seat and felt his face flush. How did he always make himself look like an idiot in front of her?

After a second he regained control of the moped and pulled out properly just in time to see Clint’s raised eyebrows.

“You all right?” Clint asked.

“Yeah,” Tony shrugged. “Just a minor encounter with the shrew. Your girlfriend’s brother.”

“What? That’s Natasha’s brother?”

“Mm hm, the mewling quim himself,” Tony nodded gravely. “Stay cool, bro.”

And with that he was jetting off.

Now Tony may have enjoyed the spotlight and may have performed a variety of reckless events in the past which we shall not name in order to spare him from the humiliation of repeating them, but he was not a reckless driver.

So when a car almost veered into him, it totally wasn’t his fault, he definitely wasn’t prepared to go flying off the edge of the parking lot and down towards the bleachers.

He flew down the side of the hill. How had he not noticed how steep this slope was before?! Oh god he could feel his tires tangling in the shrubbery. He was going to die.

 _Oh God,_ Tony hoped/prayed, _Please leave my CD collection to Clint. He needs to be educated on good music._

And then he was tumbling off the bike and into the grass.

He lay there for a few seconds trying to get his bearings. His left ankle felt twisted, but it didn’t feel like he’d done any serious damage anywhere.

Up above him, in the parking lot, students were rushing to the side after the sound of the commotion and staring down to see if he was okay. Clint watched in horror as Tony crashed and they all held their breath for a moment.

Slowly Tony pushed himself up, looked around and looked up. He raised his arms in triumph and cheered, the gathered crowd clapped and whistled, and Clint just shook his head with a small smile. Man, what had he gotten himself into.


	2. It's A Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plotting, plotting and more plotting. Deals are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was such a bad idea. Forgive me, it was kind of a rushed job.

When Steve Rogers was twelve years old he lost his mother to Tuberculosis. He had no other immediate family and as a result was placed into foster care. He’d never been a difficult child, always trying to do his best and please others and looking presentable while he did it.

He hadn’t been at the foster home for long, a kid as sweet as that was hard to ignore even if he was older than most, when Nick Fury came along and swept him up.

At first he looked a little scary with his big coat and eye patch covering a war wound, but it didn’t take long for Steve to figure out Nick was a good guy (even if he was a tad overprotective). He’d lost his wife in a car accident a couple of years before and they’d never had kids, and God Damn had he wanted kids. He helped Steve with his homework and bought him nice clothes and it wasn’t along until he’d taken in Natasha - small redhead two years younger than Steve who’d been bouncing through the system most of her life. None of her previous homes had stuck because she could be a little difficult, but who wouldn’t be in that situation?

Steve and Nat had been close instantly, they were a little family really, Steve was pretty sure Nick wasn’t kicking either of them out any time no matter how much trouble they caused.

The Fury House was big, not a mansion or anything, just a nice big stone villa with a large garden and plants winding up the walls. It was the perfect place to raise small kids… if you had them.

When Steve had first moved there he’d been astounded by the sheer size of it after the tiny apartment he’d grown up in, but now as he bounded up the front steps he barely paid mind to it.

“Hello Steven,” Nick called from the couch as Steve slammed the door. He was sorting the mail. “Make anyone cry today?”

“Sadly no, but it’s only four thirty,” Steve grinned. The door slammed again behind him and Natasha sauntered past to drop a kiss on Nick’s cheek.

“Hi daddy,” She said sweetly. Steve rolled his eyes.

Natasha was incredible at getting her own way at home, well most of the time she was anyway, and she had Nick wrapped around her little finger. The fluffy princess routine had gotten old with Steve very quickly.

“Hello, precious.”

Steve squared his shoulders and folded his arms. It was his ‘older brother posture’ as Nick liked to call it because he used it whenever he was attempting to look out for Nat.

“And where’ve you been?” Steve asked suspiciously. Nat raised her eyebrow coolly at him.

“Nowhere.”

Nick, who hadn’t raised his eyes from the mail, frowned as he looked over a large envelope.

“What’s this?” He frowned. “It says SVA.”

Steve froze for a second before hurrying forward and grabbing it. It couldn’t be… could it? He’d thought he had okay chances when applying, but…

He tore it open.

“I got in!” He shouted, punching the air triumphantly. Nat gave him a look that said he was crazy. Nick looked highly concerned.

“That’s great son, but… uh… isn’t SVA on the other side of the country?”

“Thus the basis of its appeal,” Steve said with a grin. He could believe it. He got in. School of Visual Arts wanted _him_. They wanted _him_ in New York. He could go to New York and study art like he always wanted.

“Yeah, but I thought we decided you were gonna stay here and go to UCLA like me?” Even with just one eye Nick Fury’s stare was intense enough to make Steve take a step back.

“No… that’s what _you_ decided.”

“Oh okay, so you just wanna pick up and leave, is that it?”

“Let’s hope so,” Natasha muttered under her breath. Steve shot her a look of annoyance. She complained when he wouldn’t help her out when Nick was being difficult, but the second Steve needed back up she was shooting him a sarcastic smile from the corner of the room.

“Ask Natasha who drove her home,” Steve said quickly. It was kind of easy to change the subject around Nick if it involved Natasha and boys.

“Steve don’t change the—drove? Who drove you home?” Nick demanded.

“Now don’t get upset Nick,” Natasha tried to explain. “It’s not a big deal, but there’s a guy at—“

“—He’s a flaming imbecile,” Steve piped up.

“Please—“ Nick attempted to interject. Once Nat and Steve got going in an argument it tended to be hard to stop them. They could go from being the closest siblings you’d ever met to full on war in no time.

“And I think he might want to ask me…” Natasha continued.

“Please,” Nick put up a hand to stop her. “I think I know what he’s going to ask you. And I think I know the answer: no. The answer is always no. What are the house rules?”

Steve and Nat exchanged looks of exasperation.

“Number one, no dating ‘til you graduate. Number two, no dating ‘til you graduate.”

“That’s so unfair,” Natasha said flatly.

“Alright, you wanna know what’s unfair?” Nick gave Steve a pointed look. “This is for you too. This morning I witnessed a midwife delivering a pair of twins to a _fifteen year old girl_ and you know what she said to her?”

Nick had helped out part time at the hospital ever since he’d come back from Vietnam. The hospital had helped him out a lot when he’d returned, and he wanted to return the favour, plus he liked to come home and tell Nat and Steve stories that would preferably scare them away from things they shouldn’t do.

“I’m a crack whore who should’ve made my sleazy boyfriend wear a condom?” Natasha put in sweetly.

Steve and Nick gave her identical looks of disgust.

“Close, but no. She said ‘I should have listened to my father’.”

“She did not,” Natasha replied.

“Well, that’s what she would’ve said if she wasn’t so doped up.”

“Can we focus on the fact that I’m the only student whose father doesn’t let her do _anything_? I’m also the only one who isn’t dating,” Natasha asked. She hated not being allowed control over her only life. In her mind it was considerably unfair that Nick constant tried to shelter them from everything, despite her and Steve knowing they did a hell of a lot Nick already wouldn’t approve of without him knowing.

“No you’re not. Your brother doesn’t date,” Nick pointed out.

“And I don’t intend to,” Steve interjected, folding his arms.

“And why is that again?” Nick asked.

“Have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to that school?”

“What did you come from?” Natasha threw her hands up in exasperation. “Planet loser?!”

Steve huffed and practically snarled, “As opposed to planet ‘look at me the ice queen’.”

Nick looked between the two of them, he could almost smell a fight coming on, and rolled his eyes. He was probably going to have to say something quickly if he wanted to intervene. Both kids noticed his thoughtful look, but before either of them could say anything he’d started to speak.

“Okay, here’s how we solve this. Old rule out, new rule in. She can date,” Nick pointed half-heartedly to Natasha.

They stared at him, Natasha looking triumphant and Steve opening his mouth to interject. Nick held up a hand.

“When he does,” He pointed to Steve.

“But he’s a mutant,” Natasha said in disbelief. It was Steve’s turn to look triumphant.

“Then you’ll never date,” Nick sounded extremely proud of himself. “Oh, I like that. It means I’ll get to sleep at night. The deep slumber of a man who knows his kids aren’t going to end up teenage parents.”

Natasha fumed silently from where she stood as Nick’s pager went off.

“That’s the hospital. We’ll talk about SVA later, Steve. Now I have to go, I’ll see you guys later,” They watched as he headed out the door.

After waiting for it to close, Steve and Natasha turned to each other with mismatched looks of glee and fury.

“Can’t you find a sad enough loser to take you to the museum or something so I can have one date?” Natasha hissed.

“I’m sorry,” Steve replied sweetly as he walked up the stairs. “Looks like you’ll just have to miss out on the witty repartee of Brock “eat me” Rumlow.”

“You suck,” Natasha shouted as he hopped up the stairs.

“You suck,” Steve mimicked, not unkindly.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Clint had been surprised by how fast Tony worked. It had barely taken a day for his new friend to sign Clint Barton up to the tutoring programme and assign him to Natasha Romanov. Now, after nearly a week of staring at the back of Natasha’s head in various classes, Clint was sat at a library table waiting for the object of his affections to walk through the door so he could swoon her with his knowledge of the Russian language. Or not-so-knowledge… depending on how you looked at the situation.

Clint fidgeted nervously as he waited. Every few seconds he’d check that he had everything he needed, rearrange the books or flick through the papers to distract himself. What if she didn’t show up? What if he was left waiting hopeless at the table forever? What if she was out having fun with Brock Rumlow while he cried himself to sleep on the desk?

_Jeez man chill,_ the sound of Barney’s (his older brother) voice echoed in his mind, _it’ll be fine. Just as long as you remember to talk to her like she’s an actually human being and not a mysterious Goddess from a far off world._

He was fiddling with the papers in front of him when somebody sat down across from him. He looked up with a frown only to see Natasha there. Right there, as in like in front of him, oh God she was beautiful. What was he going to do?

“Can we make this quick?” Natasha requested calmly, pulling her books from her bag. “Wade Wilson and Flash Thompson are having an incredibly intense fight on the quad again and I want to see if their fighting has improved at all since the last time.”

Clint stared at her for a moment. She looked at him, raising her eyebrow slowly as if waiting for a response. Slowly Clint’s brain sputtered into working order.

“I—um okay—uh, yeah? I thought we could, uh, start with pronunciation… if that’s okay with you?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and replied dryly, “No the hacking and gagging and spitting part. Please.”

Clint was starting to get the sense that she didn’t really need the lessons and she didn’t want to be there at all. Or at least, that’s what he’d gathered from her attitude in the last five seconds she’d been sat there.

_Get it together Clint._

“There’s an alternative?” Clint offered hopefully. “Food… uh, Russian food? If they do that kinda thing. We could eat it—together I mean. Saturday night?” Clint inwardly hit his head on the desk.

“You’re asking me out?” Natasha stared at him. For a moment Clint was almost tempted to retract the offer. “That’s so… cute. What’s your name again?”

“Clint. Listen, I know you’re dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought if it was for an extra curricular…”

“Oh, wait a minute Cameron,” Natasha said.

“It’s Clint.”

“My dad just came up with a new rule,” She continued. “I can date when my brother does.”

“You’re kidding!  Do you like archery? ‘Cause I know this place where you can go shoot—“

“Uh, small problem Chad. In case you haven’t heard my brother’s a particularly hideous breed of loser.”

“Yeah… I noticed he’s a little antisocial,” Understatement of the year, Clint. “Why is that?”

“Unsolved mystery,” Natasha shrugged carelessly. “He used to be really popular, then it was like he suddenly got sick of it or something. There’s a bet as to why, but I’m pretty sure he’s just incapable of normal human interaction. Plus, he’s an asshole.”

Natasha remembered when Steve had changed. He’d been finishing eighth grade at the time. He’d come home one night uncharacteristically upset from a night out partying with his friends. Nat had asked if Steve had wanted anything to eat, but he’d ignored her and stormed upstairs. He’d locked the door and refused to let her or Nick into the room. He’d come out the next morning like he was a completely different person, and as far as anyone knew he’d never gone back to being the old popular Steve.

“But I’m sure there are, like, y’know, there’s lots of girls who wouldn’t mind going out with a… difficult guy—“

“Guys,” Natasha said.

“What?”

“Lots of guys. Steve’s gay.”

“Oh. Oh well then. Well lots of guys who wouldn’t mind dating him. I mean, you know how people jump out of airplanes and ski off cliffs? It would be like Extreme Dating: Steve Edition.”

“You think you could find someone that extreme?” Disbelief was scribbled all over Natasha’s face. Clint felt like she was quietly challenging him or something.

“Sure,” Clint shrugged. Challenge accepted. “Why not?”

Suddenly Natasha was leaning over, touching his arm. She smiled sweetly, for a second Clint thought he saw something else flash in her eye for a second, but he was kind of distracted by the way her stunning pink lips stretched into a full on grin. And it was directed right at him.

“Would you do that for me?”

“Oh yes!” Clint felt his chest puff with pride. He’d managed to get her to _smile_ at him. Oh wait, play it cool. “I mean, yeah I guess I could look into it.”

Natasha smiled gratefully at him and he felt his stomach flutter slightly. Oh man was he in trouble.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Clint hadn’t been at Liberty High for long, but he’d been pretty sure a school this big and this nice didn’t have a shady back alley. Apparently he’d been wrong. Tony led him down a flight of dirty stone steps as he chattered away quietly. It smelled like pee and desperation.

“I’ve gathered a group of guys that couldn’t be more perfect. Liberty’s finest,” Tony said, his voice shaking nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. Clint got the impression this wasn’t quite true, but he figured he only had a small shot if he wanted Natasha to date him so he’d take what he could.

The room Tony led him into was dark and had one flickering bulb lighting the entire place. It looked like a disused cleaning room. Clint had to suppress the violent urge to shudder, this was the kind of place that someone would play Russian Roulette in. Or at least that’s what Clint thought anyway.

In the corner of the room a small collection of guys sat. There were six of them, all of varying ages and dirtiness and all looking like they’d never spoken to another human being in their life. Clint couldn’t help but think none of them would be able to get words out in front of a guy as attractive as Steve.

“Don’t give me that look, man,” Tony said. “I did my best.”

Tony strode over to the group with a welcoming smile on his face, trying to conceal the instinct to scrunch his nose up at the smell of body odour and old cleaning supplies.

“Hi! How’re ya doing? Would any of you be interested in dating Steven Rogers?” Right, Tony was going for the straightforward approach. That was probably best.

The first guy that sat down to be interviewed just laughed hysterically as if he was in pain.

The second one stared at them blankly. Tony didn’t look all that surprised by this.

The third guy, who seemed to be going for the gangster look, just looked at them and said “Ho, I ain’t ever been that ripped.”

Tony stared at Clint like he completely agreed with the fourth guy who said “Maybe if we were the last two people alive, and there were no sheep… are there sheep?”

Clint sighed and leaned back. This was a travesty.

 

 

~*~

 

 

The one thing Tony had always hated about biology class was the large amount of dissection posters that covered the walls. It was odd that in a class where you learned so much that had no relevance to dissection at all there were so many posters about it. You’d think they were encouraging students to run around with a scalpel and cut open everything living creature in their sight, which would be a real tragedy despite everyone at school being an idiot. Plus it kind of grossed him out a little bit. Frog guts? Yuck.

The other thing he currently hated about biology was Clint’s whining. He’d heard more about how perfect Natasha’s hair was and how she smiled when she liked something or the way she dressed than he’d ever wanted to. Being around Clint was great… until Clint started talking about how dating the girl was impossible. Though they’d only been friends for a week, Tony felt like it’d had been forever and he was quickly getting used to wanting to hit Clint in the head with a textbook.

“Did I or did I not tell you it was pointless?” Tony said, concentrating on the frog in front of them with a look of disgust written across his features. “No one will go out with him.”

He looked up at Clint, who was staring with his mouth slightly ajar in horror at Bucky Barnes across the lab. Barnes was holding a butterfly knife and just as Tony looked around he stabbed it violently into his frog. Barnes’ lab partner, Sam, stepped back slightly to let him do his thing. Sam never even looked alarmed anymore, and Tony figured that was a pretty good achievement.

He looked back at Clint. Oh no, he could recognise that thinking face anywhere.

“How about him?” Clint asked.

“Him? As in Barnes? No no, no way. Don’t look at him okay?” They both looked down at their mutilated frog. “He’s a criminal. I heard he set a state trooper on fire. He just did a year in prison.”

“Yeah? Then at least he’s horny,” Clint pointed out.

“I’m serious man,” Tony put on the best serious face he could muster. “The guy’s whacked. He sold his own arm on the black market for a new set of speakers.”

Clint stared at Tony as if questioning if he honestly believed that. Tony stared back as intensely as he could.

“He’s our guy,” Clint replied firmly.

They look over at Barnes again with unfortunate timing. Just as they turned their heads, Barnes looked up and glared at them. They looked quickly away again.

If the moped incident hadn’t killed Tony then this definitely would.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Wood Shop was not a safe place to be for social rejects such as Tony and Clint, so both boys prided themselves on their bravery as they slipped inside quietly. Not that anyone would notice them if they were being loud, what with all the noise from the equipment filling the room. Clint spotted Barnes in the corner and hit Tony’s arm to get his attention. Tony was busy silently judging everyone in the class; it was like a less evolved version of engineering to him.

They nodded at each other and headed over carefully. Clint stood straighter as they approached their target, hoping that if he looked confident he might actually feel it.

“Hi, how’re you doing?” Clint said with the desperate hope that it didn’t sound like a pick up line. Barnes looked at him unimpressed. “Listen I—“

Before Clint could even get the question out, Barnes had picked up a power drill and drilled right through the Russian Language book Clint was holding. Clint almost peed his pants in response.

“Okay,” Clint backed away quickly. “Later then.”

 

 

~*~

 

 

The two boys sat in the hallway looking (and feeling) mildly defeated as they stared at the giant hole in Clint’s book. Tony held it up and stared at his friend through the new little window.

“How do we get him to date Steve?” Tony asked. Even he, the genius, was running out of ideas.

“I don’t know,” Clint sighed. “I mean we could pay him, but we don’t have any money.”

Tony fidgeted slightly.  He had money, plenty of it in fact, but he was not using it on this plot. Money was evidence for when somebody inevitably died because of the plan.

“What we need is a backer,” Tony said confidently. Clint looked at him curiously. Tony put the book down.

“What’s that?”

“Someone with money, who’s stupid.”

They exchanged knowing glances and hauled themselves up to head for the cafeteria. They knew just who to use.

 

 

~*~

 

 

The cafeteria was not a place Clint and Tony often went. They preferred to eat lunch on the bleachers or in empty classrooms or anywhere that ensured they were away from either Brock Rumlow or Tony’s ex-friends. They never thought they’d need the former.

Tony approached Rumlow and prayed he wouldn’t get punched. Clint had refused to be the one to ask on the grounds that he’d talked to Barnes and now it was Tony’s turn to feel the fear. As he reached the table he spotted the tray in front of Rumlow, which the jackass was drawing a naked woman on in sharpie. Delightful.

Tony sat down as quickly and casually as he could manage. The boys at the table stared at him.

“Is that a Starbucks coffee, because you don’t often see—“ He reached over to inspect the cup on the table. One of Rumlow’s cronies grabbed his wrist until he slowly retracted his hand.

“Okay...”

“Are you lost?” Rumlow demanded. Tony really wished his father didn’t do business with Rumlow’s because if that was the case Tony could totally get away with kicking him in the balls.

“No actually,” Tony lifted his chin slightly, “I just came by to chat.”

“We don’t chat,” Rumlow drawled.

“Actually I’ve got an idea to run by you, see if you’re interested—“

“I’m not,” Rumlow said, grabbing Tony’s head and turning it slightly so he could draw on his face.

“Well hear me out anyway,” Tony didn’t resist. It would ruin his chances if he ran. “You want Natasha right? But she can’t go out with you because her brother is a boring loser and no one will go out with him, right?”

“Does this conversation have a purpose?” Rumlow stuck his tongue out of his mouth slightly in concentration.

“What I think you need to do is hire someone to go out with him. Someone who doesn’t scare so easy?” Tony slowly pointed to Barnes and waited for Rumlow to say something derogatory and demeaning. Surprisingly he didn’t. All he did was turn to look at Barnes in consideration.

Barnes - who was at that that moment in time - sat with Sam Wilson and picking his food apart rather aggressively… if it could even be called food anymore?

“Bucky Barnes?” Rumlow, who’d finished his drawing, asked. “I heard he ate a live duck once.”

“Everything but the feet and the beak,” Tony confirmed gravely. “Clearly he’s a solid investment.”

Rumlow looked at Tony suspiciously. “What’s in it for you?”

“I walk down the hall and say hi to you, you say hi back,” Tony shrugged.

“Yeah, I get it, you’re cool by association,” Rumlow nodded ‘thoughtfully’. “I’ll think about it.”

Tony smiled, pleased with himself.  Rumlow shot him an annoyed glance that told him to move away.

“We’re done here.”

“Yeah,” Tony climbed up and walked away quickly.

Clint watched him nervously until he reached him. “Why did we have to get him involved again?”

“Relax, okay? We let him think he’s calling the shots and while he’s setting things up you have time with Natasha.”

Clint smiled suddenly, visibly relaxing as he did so. “Okay, yeah, that is a good a idea.”

 

 

~*~

 

 

The sports grounds were an important part of the school socially and educationally. It hosted gym classes, soccer games, football games, exciting gossip sessions on the bleachers and often fights. At the top of the stones bleachers, which surrounded the grass like a stadium, Loki Laufeyson could be seen giving his fellow nerds a lesson in golf, which his father had taught him.

“Now remember guys,” He demonstrated in such a way that it was obvious he was showing off his position of power. “Grip it… and rip it.”

And with that he hit the carefully set up ball off and down into the stadium bottom where a poor freshman with a basket was waiting to catch it.

Down in said stadium, Rumlow was swaggering arrogantly over to Bucky Barnes and the cloud of cigarette smoke that surrounded him.

“Hey,” Rumlow nodded to Barnes and Sam in greeting, “How’re you doing?”

Both boys ignored him completely.

“I ate some great duck last night…” Rumlow tried.

“Do I know you?” Bucky demanded, turning around suddenly with an annoyed look etched onto his face.

“See that guy?” Rumlow asked quickly, pointing to Steve.

Steve was on the grass with the rest of the soccer team. The bright yellow uniform was kind of hard to miss. It didn’t help that Steve was roughly the size of a house compared to most guys with his muscles.

“Yeah…” Bucky said.

“That’s Steve Rogers. I want you to go out with him.”

“Yeah sure,” Bucky rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Whatever you say, Sparky.”

Sam chuckled quietly from beside him on the table.

“Look,” Rumlow insisted. “I can’t take his sister out until Steve starts dating. You see, their dad’s whacked out. He’s got this rule where they…”

“That’s a touching story,” Bucky placed a hand on his heart. “It really is. Not my problem.”

“Would you be willing to make it your problem if I provide some generous compensation?” Rumlow asked in what he thought was a slick way.

Bucky stared at him for a long moment.

“You’re going to pay me to take out some jock?”

Rumlow nodded smugly.

“How much?”

“Twenty bucks.”

Bucky pushed himself off the table top and stared at Rumlow.

“Okay so let’s think about this. We go to the movies, so that’s like fifteen bucks. We get popcorn, that’s fifty-three. He’ll, uh, want nachos, right? So we’re looking at seventy-five bucks.”

Rumlow stared at him in disbelief. “This ain’t a negotiation. Take it or leave it, trailer park.”

“Fifty bucks and we got a deal, Fabio,” Bucky folded his arms menacingly.

Rumlow stared at him for a minute, and then decided it probably wasn’t a battle he could win, before forfeiting fifty bucks to Bucky.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Steve loved soccer. He’d always loved it. He remembered playing it on a muddy field outside his house when he was a kid and his mom was still alive and healthy. She’d cheer him and his friends on and buy cookies for them when they were tired and bored. She’d have baked the cookies, but she wasn’t a very talented baker.

Steve loved the game so much that it was during practise he was most often seen behaving pleasantly towards others. Not that he was polite or anything in anyway, but he was at least courteous of not injuring others while playing. He liked when Coach Coulson praised him on his performance and it was obvious not matter how hard he tried to hide it.

The whistle blew and Coulson yelled at the team through a megaphone as practise came to a close. No one paid any attention to him, they were all too busy jogging to the side and grabbing their bags.

Coulson gave up and just called to them about what a great practise it was.

From where Bucky was lounging on the bleachers, he watched Steve grab his water bottle and take a long gulp of it. He hadn’t realised how hot the guy was until now, which was pretty fortunate for Bucky because it would’ve sucked if he’d got stuck seducing someone he wasn’t attracted to.

But Steve was a solid mass of muscles and anger. His blonde hair blue eyed look would’ve made any other guy look like a goody two shoes, but Steve just looked like he wanted to murder everyone around him. Well at least they had something in common.

Bucky stubbed out his cigarette on the stone steps and headed over to the blonde. If he was going to succeed at this he had to be smooth.

“Hey there… handsome, how ya doing?” Oh wow. Real smooth Buck, you look like you have the flirting skills of a twelve year old now.

Steve looked up from where he was rummaging in his bag. He’d seen Bucky around, who hadn’t? He was the town ‘bad boy’, but to be honest Steve didn’t really believe any of the rumours about him. Who eats a live duck? Nobody eats a live duck.

“Sweating like a pig, actually. Yourself?” Steve said, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue in immediate self-defense.

“Now there’s a way to get a guy’s attention, huh?” Bucky said, inwardly slapping his brain.

“My mission in life,” Steve replied drily. Was Bucky Barnes actually hitting on him? As in James Buchanan Barnes the guy who trumped _Steve_ when it came to being anti-social? Wow, maybe Steve’s life really was going down hill.

Bucky stared at him. Steve rolled his eyes and continued.

“Obviously I’ve struck your fancy,” Oh God, he was going to get punched again. “So you see, it worked, the world makes sense again.”

Steve grabbed his bag and walked away quickly. No way was he going to stand there and talk to that goon any longer. The guy was trouble, not just ‘I’ll punch you if you look at me’ trouble but ‘I’ll punch you _and_ set your house on fire if you even look at me’ trouble.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t follow Steve, but he was nothing if not persistent. Plus talking to a hot guy wasn’t exactly a waste of time when they’re clearly intelligent now, was it?

“Pick you up on Friday then,” He said confidently to Steve.

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.”

“The night I take you to places you’ve never been before.”

“What, like the dumpster on third street? Do you even know my name, jerk?”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm and flashed him what he hoped was a flirtatious smile. They both stopped walking.

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“Doubtful,” Steve said. “Very doubtful.”

He pulled his arm from Bucky’s grip and stalked off angrily across the grass. What kind of jerk messed with someone like that?

 

 

~*~

 

 

From across the field Tony and Clint watched the scene unfold from their seat on the steps.

“We’re screwed,” Clint said in dismay.

“Hey no,” Tony objected. “I don’t wanna hear that defeatist attitude. I want to hear you upbeat.”

“We’re screwed!” Clint said in a slightly more positive tone and a fake smile plastered across his face.

“There you go,” Tony nodded.

From above them a golf ball flew down and hit Coach Coulson. As the coach fell to the ground and people rushed towards him all the boys heard was a distant cry of “Run Loki!”

Tony smiled to himself. He had a plan forming already.


	3. Pearls and Skinny Jeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve looked good. Bucky strongly suspected Steve’s friend had picked his outfit out for him, because it wasn’t the usual style he’d expect to see the blonde wear. A white button down and skinny jeans with boots just like Bucky’s. Bucky was finding a whole new appreciation for skinny jeans, he’d never noticed how great Steve’s ass was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter than the others. Hope you enjoy!

Steve had been awake for roughly half an hour and his day was already disastrous. His alarm had gone off earlier than he’d meant to set it and he’d lost the ringing phone in his sheets. It had been a fight to find it and turn off what was possibly the most annoying beeping sound in the world.

The morning was made only worse when Natasha barged into the bathroom while he was washing his face at the sink.

“Have you ever considered a new look?” Natasha asked, lounging in the doorway. “I mean, seriously, you could definitely have some definite potential underneath all the hostility.”

Steve sighed. “I’m not hostile. I’m annoyed.”

“Why don’t you try being?” Natasha smirked. “People wouldn’t know what to think.”

 _Been there, done that,_ Steve thought.

“You forget… I don’t care what people think,” Steve said.

“Yes you do,” Natasha sighed.

“No I don’t,” Steve snapped. In the mirror he saw Natasha flinch, and with a sigh he softened his tone. “You don’t always have to be want they want you to be, you know.”

“I happen to like being adored, thank you,” Natasha replied icily.

Steve turned around to face her, opening his mouth to speak, but he quickly forgot what he was going to say. Around his sister’s neck was a delicate pearl necklace. Steve recognised it instantly.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” He asked.

“They were Monica’s,” Natasha replied, looking away.

Monica had been Nick’s wife. Nick had always told them stories about how beautiful she’d been, it was the only ever time Steve had seen Nick talk with emotion that wasn’t defensive or protective.

“And you’ve been hiding them all these years?” Steve demanded. Those pearls had to be important to Nick; if they got broken he’d be devastated.

“No. Dad found them in a drawer last week,” Natasha’s tone turned defensive.

“So you’re just going to start wearing them now?!”

“It’s not like she’s coming back to claim them.”

Natasha looked like she wanted to take the words back as soon as she’d said them. Steve knew she didn’t really mean them, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t upset by it.

“And besides,” Natasha slid a mask over the look of guilt on her face. “They look good on me.”

“Trust me,” Steve grabbed his jacket from the toilet seat. “They don’t.”

He stormed out of the bathroom as quickly as he could, trying not to trip over his own feet as he walked.  Maybe the record store would make his day better.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Steve had been right; the record store definitely cheered him up. He’d found four new albums, admired the collection of new guitars they’d got in and even had an almost nice conversation with the girl behind the counter about The Clash.

However, his good mood was short lived as walked out to the parking lot and spotted the figure leaning lazily against the side of his car. Jeez, what was it with Bucky Barnes and why was he suddenly everywhere Steve was?

“Nice ride,” Bucky greeted him as Steve approached. “Vintage fenders.”

Okay, so Steve’s car wasn’t exactly the newest, flashiest, shiniest model on the block, but it got him places… most of the time. When it didn’t refuse to start up properly.

“Are you following me?” Steve asked suspiciously.

“I was in the Laundromat,” Bucky grinned. “I saw your car, came over to say hi. Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve said shortly.

He moved to open his door and Bucky slid in front of him to block the way.

“Not a big talker, huh?” Bucky asked. His eyes glinted mischievously.

“Depends on the topic,” Steve replied, his tone dripping in sarcasm. “My fenders don’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose, if he wasn’t careful they might come right off his forehead.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Bucky asked.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”

“Well… most people are,” Bucky shrugged.

“Well… I’m not,” Steve folded his arms.

Bucky faltered for a minute, but quickly recovered and set a smirk on to his face.

“Maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked, right?” Bucky winked.

Steve was determined not to blush. What a presumptuous jerk Bucky was. How could he even suggest that Steve had thought about him naked? Of course he hadn’t! He hadn’t thought about what the smooth muscles of his torso might look like, or how they would flex as he pulled his shirt off…

Steve snapped back to reality suddenly feeling annoyed by the smug look on Bucky’s face.

“Am I that transparent?” Steve replied drily. “I want you. I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.”

Steve shoved Bucky to the side and pulled his car door open, trying to ignore the way it squeaked unpleasantly as if it might fall off if he pulled with too much force.

As soon as he’s in the car and got it started, eager to get away from the great irritation that was the school criminal, a car pulled in behind him and blocked his exit. It was Rumlow’s car.

“What is it, asshole day?” Steve muttered to himself and then leaned out the window. “Hey! Do you mind?!”

“Not at all,” Rumlow grinned from the front seat of his ostentatious red car.

Steve watched, seething in anger, as Rumlow swung his door open and climbed out. He swaggered towards the store looking as incredibly full of himself as always, and between Rumlow’s idiocy and Bucky’s smirk Steve had had enough. He backed his car up, fast, and deliberately hit the side of Rumlow’s.

The sound of the crunch was supremely satisfying.

Steve ignored the bark of laughter he hears from Bucky and focused on the cry of outrage from Rumlow.

“You dick!” Rumlow screeched, pulling at his hair and staring at the damaged side of his car.

“Whoops,” Steve said innocently (but not without a full blown grin on his face).

 

 

~*~

 

 

Steve tried not to feel guilty as Nick paced in front of him. He’d never seen his father quite so angry, but he was willing to ignore it in favour for the feeling of satisfaction he’d gotten from listening to Rumlow’s father shriek down the phone.

“Whoops?” Nick seethed. “My insurance does not cover teenage assholes!”

“Then tell them I had a seizure,” Steve said. He lounged careless on the sofa watching Nick.

“Is this about SVA?” Nick demanded. “Are you punishing me because I want you to stay close to home.”

“Are you punishing me because Nat’s lashing out?”

“You think you could leave her out of this?”

“Fine. Then stop making decisions for me,” Steve snapped, sitting up.

“I’m your carer,” Nick hissed. “That’s my right.”

“So what I want doesn’t matter?” Steve could feel more and more anger bubbling up inside of him. He never got to make his own decisions, never got to choose his own path, and it sucked. He just wanted to go to New York and become an artist… that was all.

“You eighteen!” Nick said. “You don’t know what you want. And you won’t know until you’re forty-five and if you get what you want you’ll be too old to use it!”

“I want to go to an East Coast school! I want you to trust me to make my own choices! And I want you to stop trying to control my life just because you can’t control yours!” It was by far the worst thing Steve had ever said to Nick.

He never meant to seem ungrateful, never liked fighting with Nick, but he felt a little bit justified in arguing his case right then because it just wasn’t fair of Nick to decide how Steve would live his life.

“Oh yeah, well you know what I want—“ Nick began, momentarily interrupted by his own pager going off.

“—We’ll continue this later,” Nick sighed.

“Can’t wait,” Steve snapped, pushing himself off the couch and heading up the stairs, he was stopped halfway by his sister angrily stomping on his foot, she was yelling before he could even swear.

“Did you just maim Brock’s car?” She hissed.

“Yeah,” Steve rubbed his foot. “Looks like you’re gonna have to take the bus.”

“Has the fact that you’re completely psycho managed to escape your attention?”

“You must’ve rubbed off on me then,” Steve snapped, running up the stairs.

Was there anyone in the world not out to get him right now?

 

 

~*~

 

 

Bucky Barnes did not expect to shut his locker and be greeted by the sight of a glowering Brock Rumlow, but apparently it was asshole week.

“When I shell out fifty I expect results,” Rumlow said.

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Bucky waved him away with a hand.

Rumlow stood firmly where he was.

“Watching the asshole violate doesn’t count as a date,” He retorted. “If you don’t get any, then I don’t get anyway. Now do your job so we can go get some.”

Bucky made a snap decision as Rumlow began to walk away.

“I just upped my price,” He called out.

Rumlow spun around to face him looking outraged. “What?”

“Hundred bucks a date, in advance,” Bucky leaned back against the lockers.

“Forget it.”

“Forget his sister, then,” Bucky shrugged.

Rumlow’s face became stony. Bucky could almost see the smoke pouring from his ears in frustration. Slowly Rumlow reached into his pocket and dug out his wallet. He pulled out a fifty and handed it over.

“You’d better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Barnes,” Bucky figured Rumlow was trying to sound threatening, but it sounded more annoyed than anything.

Bucky reached out a hand, smiling widely, and took the fifty. Easy money, he thought.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Clint was not pleased to find himself back in Shop Class. Tony seemed even less pleased than Clint was. They were once again in the land of dangerous ~~people~~ equipment to talk to Bucky Barnes… Clint was confident today would go better than the last time they tried.

Still, that didn’t mean Clint wanted to be the one to try and talk to the scariest guy ever again.

“Go,” He nudged Tony.

“No, you go,” Tony hissed.

“I went before,” Clint argued.

Tony gave Clint a look that suggested if he went anywhere near Bucky Barnes he might actually piss himself, so Clint sighed and resigned himself to wandering over to the work bench and trying not to get killed.

“We know what you’re trying to do,” Clint cursed himself inwardly. Apparently they were taking the direct route with this. “With Steve Rogers.”

“Is that right?” Bucky asked, not taking his eyes off whatever project he was sawing to death. “And what do you plan to do about it?”

“Help you out?” Clint said carefully.

Bucky’s eyes flitted up with interest. Once it was apparent no one was getting killed with a power drill, Tony slid over to Clint’s side to help.

“Why’s that?” Bucky asked curiously, putting his handsaw down.

“The situation is,” Tony jumped in before Clint could speak. “My man Clint here has a major jones for Natasha Romanov.”

“What is it with this chick? She got beer flavoured nipples?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“Hey!” Clint surged forward. Tony pushed him back with a warning look.

“I think I speak correctly when I say Clint’s love is pure,” Tony said. “Purer than say… Brock Rumlow’s.”

“Look,” Bucky said. “I’m in this for the cash. Rumlow can plough it wherever he wants.”

“There will be no ploughing!” Clint exclaimed in outrage, once again to be pushed back by Tony.

“Bucky, uh… Buck. Let me explain something to you here. We set this whole thing up so Clint can get the girl. Clint. Rumlow’s just a pawn.”

“So… you two are going to help me tame the beast?” For a brief moment Clint could’ve sworn there was a flicker of interest in Bucky’s eyes.

Tony grinned widely. “We’ll done some research and find out what he likes. We’re your guys.”

“And he means that in a strictly non prison movie kind of way,” Clint added quickly.

Tony gave him a warning look again and turned back to Bucky. Out of his pocket he pulled a crumpled yellow flyer. “Let’s start here,” He said.

“Friday night, Loki Laufeyson is having a party. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“Opportunity for what?”

“For you to take Steve out,” Tony smiled.

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky shrugged and picked up his handsaw again.

Clint and Tony took an immediate step back.

As Bucky walked away, Tony and Clint grinned at each other.

“And now for a little payback,” Tony said.

The flyer Tony had been holding advertised a wine and cheese party for the geeks of the school. A small gathering of nothing but the nerds and dorks who were to be future leaders, but the time Tony was finished there was a pile of about four hundred flyers advertising a party at Loki’s with the phrases “Bring beer” and “All Night Long” written across it.

The feeling of satisfaction Tony got when he and Clint threw the pile into the stairwell, watching as hands reached out to grab a falling invitation, was the best feeling Tony had felt in a long time.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Natasha stood with Brock outside his locker. She’d been thrilled when he’d called her over to chatted, she’d giggled and flipped her hair in a way she knew got boys’ attention, but now she was bored. Brock had been talking about modelling for two minutes straight, she hadn’t taken a word of it in.

He practically shoved the two photos in her face. They were identical close up shots of Brock’s face, only one was in a white shirt and another in black. Distantly she heard him ask her opinion. She stared at the photos; they were literally the same.

“I think I like the white shirt better,” She said.

Brock nodded thoughtfully, looking over the pictures once again.

“Yeah, it’s more…”

“Pensive?” Natasha offered.

“Damn,” Brock sighed. “I was going for thoughtful. So, are you going to that thing at Loki Laufeysuck’s on Friday?”

Natasha’s eyebrows rose at the sudden change in subject.

“Yeah, I might,” She shrugged.

“Good, ‘cause uh, I won’t bother if you’re not gonna be there,” Brock said, flashing his most flirtatious smile.

Natasha smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but the bell ringing cut her off.

“See you there,” Brock said, backing away.

“Okay.”

“Bye,” He turned and jogged off to class.

She walked away hoping he wouldn’t spend all of Friday talking about himself again. Earlier she’d noticed he had a mirror in his locker and it wasn’t just a small one, it was a freaking huge one that covered the inside of the door. He’d been fixing his hair when he’d called her over.

 

 

~*~

 

 

It hadn’t taken long for Clint and Natasha to get bored of French tutoring, in fact it had taken all of five minutes for them to dump the books and for Natasha to suggest they head down to the beach. Clint couldn’t have been more enthusiastic as they clambered over the rocks (well, Clint clambered, Natasha was all grace) and stopped under a little bridge Natasha knew.

They’d actually been having fun on the walk, Clint glowed every time he got a laugh out of Natasha and Natasha actually found herself having fun.

“So, have you heard about Loki Laufeyson’s party on Friday?” Clint asked in what he thought was a smooth manner – it wasn’t, but points to him for giving it a shot.

“Yes,” Natasha sighed. “And I really, really, really want to go, but I can’t unless my brother goes.”

“Yeah I know, I’m working on that. But so far he’s not going for my guy.”

They sat in silence for a second, listening to the sound of cars above them.

“He’s not secretly…”

“Straight?” Natasha asked. “No, I found a picture of Jared Leto in his drawer once, so I’m pretty sure he’s not harbouring opposite-sex tendencies.”

“Okay…” Clint thought for a minute. “So that’s the kind of guy he likes? Pretty guys?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha shrugged. “All I know is I’ve heard him say he’d die before dating a guy that smokes.”

“All right,” Clint nodded. “What else?”

“You’re asking me to investigate the inner workings of my brother’s twisted mind? I don’t think so.”

“Well, nothing else has worked. I think we need to go behind enemy lines here.”

Natasha looked over, her lips twisting into a cheeky smile. Clint’s stomach fluttered slightly, he couldn’t help but beam back at her.

 

 

~*~

 

 

It was a mere forty-five minutes later that Clint found himself sneaking around Steve’s room with Natasha. He stood back and watched as the pretty red head rifled through her brother’s drawers.

“Okay, here we go,” Natasha said as she pulled out a pile of collective junk and handing them to Clint one by one. “We have his class schedule, reading list, date book, old coffee cups, uh… concert tickets and—ah ha!”

Clint jumped a her sudden outburst. Natasha leaned further over the desk and pulled a small box out of the drawer.

“Condoms!”

“What does that tell us?” Clint asked.

“He wants to have sex some day, that’s what,” She replied. “Like girls owning black panties.”

“But what if they just like the colour?” Clint was not flustered. He was _not_.

“You don’t buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Natasha explained.

They stood quietly for a moment, thinking.

“So, uh, can I see your room then?” Clint asked hopefully.

“No!” Natasha replied quickly. “Um, a girl’s room is very personal.”

“Oh… okay.”

 

 

~*~

 

 

Clint couldn’t help but snigger into Tony’s back as they drew up in the middle of a very large tough looking biker gang on Tony’s tarnished old moped.

“Nice bike,” One of the bikers says with a smirk.

“You think?” Tony asks.

The bikers rode off without answering.

Five minutes later the two boys strolled cautiously into the shady bar on the edge of town, Tony almost dying from the sudden smoke inhalation they encountered.

The bar was run down and low lit, filled with smoke and a hell of a lot of tattooed bikers. Clint stared around; he’d never been in a place like this before… from the looks of it Tony hadn’t either. They were both very aware of the curious eyes on them.

Tony was the one to spot Bucky in the corner at the pool table. He nudged Clint, pushing him forward slightly until they were both walking towards the man.

Tony picked up one of the balls from a nearby pool table to inspect it briefly before dropping it down again. He didn’t notice the outraged looks from the guy whose shot he’d just ruined, or his opponent that happily reached over and swiped the money from the side.

When they reached Bucky – who looked less than happy to see them – he handed his queue to another player and picked up a pint from the side to take a sip.

“So what’ve you got for me?” He asked gruffly.

“A little insight to a very complicated guy,” Clint replied.

“One question before we start,” Tony asked. “Should you be drinking alcohol when you’re underage?”

“What?”

Clint elbowed Tony sharply in the ribs.

“Nothing, nothing.”

“First thing, Steve hates smokers,” Clint swiped the pack of cigarettes from the side of the pool table and shoved them in his pocket.

“So you’re telling me I’m a… a—a non smoker,” Bucky stared at them.

“Yeah, but just for now,” Tony assured him.

“And there’s another problem,” Clint said. “Natasha said that Steve likes pretty guys.”

Bucky looked rather affronted by that, Clint and Tony took a step back in unison.

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m not a pretty guy?”

“You’re very pretty!” Tony amended quickly. “He’s a gorgeous guy, right?”

“Yeah, yeah of course!” Clint piped up. “I wasn’t sure, I didn’t know.”

Bucky relaxed looking pleased. Clint let out a sigh of relief and pulled a list out of his pocket.

“Alright, Steve likes Sushi, feminist prose and ‘angry, teen music of the punk rock persuasion’. Here’s a list of CDs he has in his room,” Clint offered the paper to Bucky, who snatched it quickly.

“So I’m supposed to buy him some raw fish and a book and sit around listening to kids who can’t play their instruments, right?”

“Ever been to Club Shield?” Tony asked.

“His favourite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Clint put in. "The Black Widows."

“I can’t be seen at Club Shield, okay?” Bucky said.

Club Shield wasn’t exactly his kind of scene. It was a hang out for the angry kids who liked to set themselves apart from ‘the mainstream crowd’ and not in the hipster way. It was known for having loud, crashy, garage bands play there.

“Steve will be there,” Clint said. “He’s got tickets.”

“Just assail your ears for one night,” Tony suggested.

“He has condoms, if that helps!”

“Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Bucky stared at both the boys. This was going to be ridiculous.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Bucky could not believe he was actually in Club Shield. It was starting to feel like the money wasn’t worth it. God, he had a reputation to maintain, if people saw him here he’d never live it down.

Waling down the hall towards the main area he could the eyes of suspicious punks everywhere staring at him. Annoyingly he knew he could fit in there, if he listened to trashy music and drank Pepsi.

Looking through the crowd it didn’t take long to spot Steve. Jesus, that guy was huge. He kind of towered over most of the kids there, but he looked like he was having fun dancing with his friend… Piper—no Poppy… Pepper?

He stood there long enough to make sure Steve spotted him, before heading to the bar and sliding in to order a drink. Steve was kind of predictable in the way he walked over under the pretence of grabbing water for him and his friends.

“Barnes,” He said, appearing next to Bucky – who was conveniently pretending he hadn’t noticed Steve. “What are you doing here? If you’re planning on asking me out again you might as well get it over with.”

Wow, how presumptuous of him.  

Bucky bobbed his head the music in an attempt to look like he was actually listening to it. “Do you mind?” He said. “You’re kind of ruining this for me.”

“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke,” Steve remarked.

He looked good. Bucky strongly suspected Steve’s friend had picked his outfit out for him, because it wasn’t the usual style he’d expect to see the blonde wear. A white button down and skinny jeans with boots just like Bucky’s. Bucky was finding a whole new appreciation for skinny jeans, he’d never noticed how great Steve’s ass was before.

“I know, I quit,” Bucky smiled smugly at the look of surprise on Steve’s face. “Apparently they’re bad for you.”

“You did…?”

“You know these guys are Howling Commandos or Winter Soldier, but they’re not bad,” Bucky tried to seem offhand as he pushed away from the bar and headed into the crowd.

Steve stood looking stunned for a moment before grabbing his water and rushing after him.

“You know who Winter Soldier are?” He yelled over the crowd.

“Why? Don’t you?” Bucky flashed him a grin. “Y’know, I was watching dance out there…” The song playing came to an end, the club suddenly a lot quieter as Bucky yelled. “I’ve never seen you look so sexy!”

The crowd around them tittered with laughter. Steve snorted and Bucky inwardly slapped his forehead. Trust him to embarrass himself at Club Shield.

“Come to Loki’s party with me,” Bucky asked, pulling Steve to one side.

“You never give up, do you?” Steve shrugged out of his grip and started walking back through the crowd to his friend.

“Was that a yes?” Bucky called.

“No!” Steve yelled, grinning without looking back.

“Was it a no?!”

“No!”

“I’ll see you at nine thirty then!” Bucky shouted, triumphant.

Well okay, maybe the money was kind of worth it.


End file.
